Egan
Outside the burning remains of the morgue, stomping her feet to stay warm in the chilly air, Egan ticked off “things that sucked” on her fingers. The first was watching a building burn to the ground—a building her best friend had predicted would burn and nearly lost her life in the foretelling. Questioning suspects whose loved one had been murdered? That sucked big, fat monkey balls. She blew out a huge sigh.
“Which one of us gets to question the Chambers about their son’s connection with Alicia? Rock, paper, scissors?” She yawned.
The stress of the long day called its siren song to her, beckoning her to go home and get some rest. Opening her eyes wide and blinking, she shook her head, trying to stay alert.
“I vote you,” Livia said, not meeting her gaze. Instead, her attention kept surreptitiously sliding toward Danvers who talked to another officer near the charred remains of the morgue.
Egan stabbed her finger in Danvers’ direction. “I vote him. He’s a man. Men are excellent about delivering bad news and not flinching.”
Livia didn’t respond. Instead, her gaze drifted like feathers in the wind, toward Danvers.
“Livia,” Egan said.
“Uh huh,” Livia said distractedly, her eyes glued to the Lieutenant.
“Livia!” Egan snapped her fingers in front of her friend’s face.
“What?” Livia’s eyes flashed as they swung to meet Egan’s.
Egan’s lips fell together in a line. “We need to head over to the Chambers and ask them about their whereabouts on the night of Jason’s death. Ask them a few questions. Like that, remember?”
“You already said that.”
“And then you drifted into bed with our Lieutenant.”
Livia’s face grew red. “I did not.”
“Well, where’d you go, then?”
“I…we…I don’t want to talk about it.” Livia turned and began marching toward Egan’s car, her heels clacking against the sidewalk.
Egan lunged after her, seizing Livia’s arm. “Since when do you and I not talk about things?”
Livia brushed her aside. “Since things became complicated, that’s when. You know what growing up at Psi-3891 did to our ability to form lasting relationships.”
“Ohhhh.” Egan drew the word out. “So, that’s what this is about.” She put her arm around Livia. “I do know. You know I know. But you and I have made a lasting lifetime friendship. Who says you can’t have that with a guy?”
Livia’s eyes met hers, looking hopeful. She gave a wan smile. “Thanks, Egan. Who does say that, anyway?”
“That’s my girl.” Egan squeezed her shoulder. “Now that we’ve solved that, which one of us gets to question the Chambers?”
“Ugh. Let’s do it together.”
They clambered inside Egan’s Corvette and drove to the Chambers’ estate in silence. Egan chewed on the idea of Livia and the lieutenant. While she wanted her friend to be happy…Lieutenant Danvers? The idea didn’t exactly evoke warm and fuzzy feelings. She imagined hearing them screwing in Livia’s bedroom. Or, hanging out in the living room while she scurried to get to her room, away from all that lovey-dovey goo-goo nonsense. And then, seeing Danvers at work, trying to pretend she hadn’t seen his black boxers in the dryer or didn’t know he shouted “holy mother of god,” when he came.
When they pulled up to the curb, outside the seven-million-dollar townhouse in the Lenox Hill neighborhood, overlooking Central Park, Egan muttered, “I hate rich people.”
“I don’t.” Livia let out a laugh. “Especially when they’re single.”
Egan snorted. “Says the woman who’s in a twist about one guy in particular.”
“Says the woman who lives in a penthouse,” Livia shot back with a grin.
“That’s different. I’m an ordinary girl.”
Livia let out a genuine belly laugh, complete with snorts. “Stop. You’re killing me.”
“Get a hold of yourself.” Egan smirked, set the parking brake, and climbed out of the car. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. “Okay, I get good cop, you get bad cop.”
She grinned.
“Hey! You know I suck at bad cop.”
“Give it your best shot.”
They stepped across the sidewalk and climbed the stone steps to the four-story mansion, complete with Italianate facade.
Egan pressed the gilded doorbell. She hung back from the door, hands clasped, admiring the street-lit, tree-lined park across the street, until the front door swung open.
A forgettable looking pale-faced butler, with a military-grade haircut, wearing a ho-hum beige suit and tie, greeted them formally and then led them to a relatively small alcove.
They perched on the satin, striped armchairs and waited.
Egan looked around the room, wrinkling her nose. “Can you believe this place? Can you spell pretension, boys and girls? Ugh.”
“Yes, it’s not my style, that’s for sure,” Livia said, her hands folded primly in her lap. “Turn of the century furnishings have never been my thing.”
A few minutes later, the butler returned. “The Chambers will see you now.”
Egan rolled her eyes and stood.
They were led upstairs to a cozy seating area. Comfortable brown leather sofa and chairs were arranged in a semi-circle facing a fireplace. A heavy, brocade gold curtain had been pulled back, revealing a small, well-tended garden outside the huge arched window. A gigantic framed photo of a laughing Hindu holy man hung over the mantle. The man looked skeletal, like he hadn’t eaten for weeks. He held some sort of beaded bracelet in his hands as he stood, looking out in a forever kind of way, at nothing.
Egan nudged Livia with her elbow and tilted her head slightly toward the picture. She raised her eyebrows in a “what the hell” expression.
Livia’s left shoulder rose and fell.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” Mr. Forgettable said, as he backed out of the room.
“Will do,” Egan said, giving him a thumbs-up. After the butler had closed the double doors, she said, “Let’s stand.”
“I agree.”
Egan stepped closer to the picture, studying it in detail.
“I see you like Krishnakaya,” a smooth female voice said. “He’s my spiritual adviser.”
Egan turned her head toward the voice, immediately recognizing Alethia Chambers. Coiffed brunette hair and artfully applied make-up, complete with painted eyebrows, sleek apricot linen pantsuit, down to the pastel Jimmy Choo’s gliding across the floor…Egan figured it must take Mrs. Chambers close to two hours to get dressed. She strode toward her and took her proffered hand. It felt as cool and listless as the light blue eyes regarding her.
“I’m Alethia Chambers. I prefer to be called Mrs. Chambers. Bryant—Mr. Chambers—will be in shortly. He’s consoling Alexandria, Jason’s fiancée.”
Livia’s thoughts rang through her mind, as clearly as if she’d spoken them aloud. Shouldn’t you be doing the consoling?
Egan flashed her a knowing smirk.
“Please….” Mrs. Chambers hand swept toward the chairs. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
“We’ll stand, thanks.” Egan scrutinized Mrs. Chambers.
Her perfectly painted lips pressed together. She settled onto the sofa in a practiced gesture. “Can I ring Albert to get you anything?”
“Don’t bother. This will be brief.”
Mrs. Chambers let out a sigh, her posture sagging. Then, gathering herself together, she sat stiffly upright. She looked toward the door, perhaps hoping for rescue.
A few minutes of awkward silence later, Congressman Bryant Chambers, a good-looking man in his early fifties, strode through the double doors, his arm wrapped tightly around the stunning socialite, Alexandria.
Although well-dressed and perfectly groomed, Alexandria appeared out of it, like she’d been on a bender. Her eyes looked red and glazed. Strain showed in the tight lines at the corners of her mouth.
“What??
?s the meaning of this intrusion? Can’t you see we’re going through enough heartache?” Bryant spoke like a general.
Rising to her feet like a silken scarf being pushed by wind, Mrs. Chambers hushed her husband.
“Bryant,” she said, her voice hinting at sharp reprove.
“What?” His brown eyes flashed as he looked at her. “Settle down.”
Mrs. Chamber sat like a scolded child, resuming her seat on the couch.
“Can’t you see the state she’s in?” He stepped behind Alexandria and put his hands on her shoulders, as if providing proof to a courtroom. Then, he tugged her close, kissing the top of her head, before leading her to the sofa to sit next to his wife.
Livia sent Egan a telepathic communication. Wow. Are you catching this, Egan?
Yeah. I think big daddy puppet master’s using his power tools to console the poor fiancée. Egan folded her arms across her chest.
Livia started to laugh, but managed to cover it with a cough.
Mrs. Chambers scooted closer to Alexandria.
Bryant sat on her other side.
Mrs. Chambers patted Alexandria’s St. John pant-suited leg. “It will be okay, dear.”
Alexandria leaned forward, clearly uncomfortable at being a pawn in whatever twisted game the Chambers’s were playing.
Bryant placed his hand behind her back, still claiming ownership. His other hand gestured toward the chairs, and he said, “Sit.”
Woof. Livia shot her one-word thought toward Egan’s mind.
Egan forcefully cleared her throat to keep from laughing. “Thanks, we’ll stand. We only need to ask you a few questions. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Good,” he said. “Alexandria needs to rest.”
Rest. So that’s what we’re calling it. Livia rolled her eyes.
Stop! Egan could barely keep it together.
“You know, a glass of water would be fantastic,” Egan said to Mrs. Chambers, trying to distract herself. She met Livia’s eyes. Let’s hear what these two have to say so we can compare it with Mrs. Chambers’ version.
Livia gave a nod.
Mrs. Chambers practically leaped from the sofa, no doubt eager for something to do.
“We only need to follow up on something,” Livia said. “We got the toxicology report from the medical examiner today.”
“Yeah. Jason’s bloodstream was full of an exotic drug,” Egan added.
“That’s impossible!” Alexandria arched away from Bryant.
“There, there,” he soothed. He put his hand on her shoulder and forced her toward him. “They’re probably lying.”
She wriggled her shoulders, shrinking away from his hand. “Why would they lie?”
“Right, Bryant? Why would we lie about something like a toxicology report?” Livia said, sashaying toward him, using her best rolling gait.
Egan shook her head.
Bryant’s eyebrows shot up with interest at the oncoming eye candy. His tongue darted out and licked his lips before answering.
“Because you’re the police,” he managed, tearing his gaze away from Livia’s curvy hips.
“We’re consultants,” Egan said, striding to stand beside her partner. She and Livia loomed over him.
Bryant leaned back into the sofa, tugging Alexandria with him. He crossed his ankle over his knee, trying to look casual. One of his fingers slid under his collar and he tugged at it, as if needing air.
Alexandria straightened her shoulders. “There’s no way Jason could be using again. I’d know it. I’m a recovering addict. Three years sober. He wouldn’t do that to me.”
Egan pictured the blonde sticking her tongue down Jason’s throat. “You’d be surprised. He was seen with another woman at a club. Akeldama. You know the one?”
“She knows it,” Bryant said, side-eying Alexandria. His fingers wrapped around her forearm. “But she never goes there.”
Alexandria’s eyes flashed with hurt, then defiance. She wriggled away from Bryant, bolting to her feet until she was practically nose to nose with Egan.
“He wouldn’t do that to me. We met at an NA meeting. He was my sponsor. He was strong. He fought his addiction and won. You must believe me. He wouldn’t do that to me.” This time her voice took on a plaintive tone.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but men can be real scumbags.” Egan smiled at Bryant.
“I think you’ve done enough damage here,” Bryant said, getting to his feet. He put his arm around Alexandria. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Sure thing,” Livia said, stepping out of their way. “But first…can we get the name of the place where you met? Maybe we can find some clues there.”
“It’s the Church of the Holies, on E. 86th,” Alexandria said.
Bryant’s fingers tightened around her shoulders.
“What?” She flashed a glare at him. “There’s no harm in telling them the place where the NA meetings are.”
“Ladies?” Bryant said, gesturing toward the double doors. “You can see yourself out, right? I need to help Alexandria to her room.”
“Sure thing,” Egan said. “Thanks for your time. And sorry for your loss,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
When they stood on the street, she brushed her arms with her hands, trying to get the slimy feel of Bryant Chambers out of her system. “Jesus. That’s one effed up family.”
“I’ll say,” Livia said. “Maybe we can get our auras cleansed at Church of the Holies.”
“And then we head to a bar for a nice stiff drink,” Egan said. “I need something to take the edge off.”
“You can always call Rion,” Livia teased.
“Right. Not in a million years,” Egan said, blipping the Corvette unlock key fob. But when she thought about it, the idea didn’t sound half bad.
Egan
Egan stepped on the gas pedal, giving the Corvette a little too much gas, going a little too fast. She powered her way toward E. 86th in the Upper East Side.
“Slow down,” Livia cautioned from the passenger seat. “These are residential streets.”
“I need to let off some steam. Being at the Chambers gave me the heebie-jeebies. Do you think Bryant is screwing Alexandria?”
“Who knows?” Livia clutched the sides of the leather seat.
“Come on, you’re the one with the mad telepathy and mind control.” Egan glanced at her, taking her eyes away from the road. “I hobble along. And, I can only connect mind to mind with you.”
“Look out!” Livia’s hand shot to Egan’s arm.
Egan’s head spun in time to see a couple of teens step out into the street. She slammed on the brakes, swerving.
The kids leaped out of the way, faces awash with alarm. They stood on the sidewalk, shaking their fists, and swearing at Egan.
“Learn to drive, bitch!” The tall one jeered at her.
“Yeah, and get fucked while you’re at it,” the smaller of the two said, giving her the finger.
“Fuck off yourself,” Egan said, flipping them off as she sped away.
“Yikes! You could have killed them.” With trembling hands, Livia brushed back her purple tinted hair.
“I’m sorry, Liv. But I saw them, honest. And they were merely being dramatic back there, acting all victimized.” She patted Livia’s shoulder. Easing up on the gas until she drove the speed limit, she said, “There. Is that better?”
“I guess,” Livia said.
“So. Mind control? Telepathy? What’s your take on Chambers?”
“Other than a boatload of guilt for whatever he’s doing with Alexandria, I don’t sense anything. I don’t think he had anything to do with his son’s death.” She drummed the armrest.
“I guess we’re back to square one.” Approaching a rare gas station in this part of New York City, she glanced at the gas gauge. “I’d better fill up before we head to the other side of town.”
She pulled into the petrol station and stepped out of her vehicle.
 
; “Nice wheels,” a rugged looking guy with messy blond hair and a two-day beard said to her, pumping gas into his Prius.
She gave him an absent-minded smile before letting her gaze sweep along his muscular body.
“Thanks.” After swiping her credit card, she lifted the pump nozzle free. “Yours is far more economical.”
Pressing the Supreme Nitro+ with Power Boost button, she slid the end of the nozzle into the filler neck. She flipped the lever on the handle so it would pump by itself. Then, she turned to lean on the car, folding her arms over her chest.
“Yes, but still, I’d give anything to own a ride like yours. Wife and kids, you know?” He gave a rueful smile.
“Nope, I don’t know anything about that,” she said.
“Boyfriend? Husband?” He looked at her hopefully.
She shook her head, thinking, loser. She hated cheating spouses. Leaning into the window, she said to Livia, “I’m going to go get a snack. Want anything?”
“If they have any Ben and Jerry’s in those cute little cups, I’d love one of those.” Livia smiled.
“And if they don’t?”
“Ice cream sandwich?”
“You got it.”
Out of the corner of her eye she caught the Prius guy watching her trek across the concrete. Inside the convenience store, she bought a bag of chips and an ice cream sandwich and pivoted away from the checkout stand.
The cute blond guy burst through the glass double doors. “Your friend! She’s lost her mind! She’s standing on top of your car…”
Egan pushed past him and bolted out of the store.
Livia balanced on top of the car, swaying like she did on top of the apartment.
“Livia, what’s going on?”
Liv’s eyes had that same whitish glow as before, too.
She trained her eyes on Egan and yelled, “Don’t come any closer! I’ll shoot!”
She lifted her arm and held Egan’s Glock to her own head.
“Whoa!” Egan stopped, palms out.
The Prius guy halted behind her, a little too close for comfort. “I’m calling the police.”
“No!” Her head whipped to face him. “Don’t. We’re consultants with the police. I’ve got this.”